


Enigmatic Man

by Etwas_Schlau



Series: Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Coffee Shops, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Strangers to Lovers, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9611447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etwas_Schlau/pseuds/Etwas_Schlau
Summary: Valentine's Day is quick approaching and Clara Oswald is still single. She's wallowing in self pity when a well-dressed, enigmatic, Scottish man shows up at the coffee shop where she works. He calls himself the Doctor and he's unlike anyone she's ever met.Prompt fill for anon 'Johnny.'





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Note:** I do not own Doctor Who. All rights to the show and its characters belong to the BBC.
> 
> Prompt fill for Johnny: " _12/Clara human coffee shop AU? for Valentines's Day?_ " This is my first time writing Twelve and Clara, but I'm rather proud of the result. There is very little Ten/Rose here, but I'm tagging it as such anyway. As always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.
> 
> If you have any Doctor Who prompts, just drop a comment on any Who fic I've written. Please read the details in my profile before leaving prompts. Happy early Valentine's Day and enjoy!

Clara sighed, collapsing onto the sofa. Ignoring the romantic comedy playing quietly on the telly, she slipped her mobile from her pocket to check the calendar. It was a week until February and she was still single. She had promised herself she wouldn't spend Valentine's Day alone this year, but the universe seemed to revel in her suffering.

Her longtime boyfriend, Danny, had broken up with her months ago and she'd had nary a date since then. It wasn't for lack of trying, however. Her flatmate, Rose, had attempted to set her up multiple times, but none of the men had been her type. She was beginning to lose hope she'd find love again at all.

Clara was torn from her thoughts by the sound of the flat door opening. Rose stepped in, bundled in a thick coat and scarf with a whispy pink blush staining her cheeks. The cause of said blush appeared behind her, grinning widely with windswept chocolate hair.

“Ah, Clara. How are you?” he asked warmly as if he could sense her ill mood.

“Wallowing in self pity, how about you, John?” she replied with a humourless laugh.

“Oh, that's not good. What's wrong?”

“She's moping because she 'asn't got a boyfriend to be with on Valentine's Day,” Rose piped up from the kitchen.

“Oi!”

“You know it's true, Oswald. I keep telling you, I could set you up.”

“I'm not spending Valentine's Day with Jack!” she objected indignantly.

“Oh, come on. He's a nice enough guy.”

“He only cares about sex!”

“Couldn't hurt,” Rose quipped, poking her head into the lounge to shoot a suggestive look at Clara. The brunette tossed a cushion at her flatmate and she jerked backed into the kitchen, avoiding the assault.

John shed his long brown coat, draping it over the back of a chair. He joined Rose in the kitchen, chatting idly about what they were having for dinner. The conversation quickly shifted to playful flirting as they began cooking. Clara grimaced and turned the volume up on the telly, but she could still hear the two murmuring to each other.

“John, quit! Do you want me to catch you on fire?”

“You can't,” he teased. “I'm already smoking.”

“Well, you're not wrong...”

Clara groaned and strode from the room, stepping into her bedroom and slamming the door behind herself. Away from the gushing couple, she settled into bed, drifting into a restless sleep.

**~*~**

Tying on her apron, Clara walked behind the counter, waiting for the usual morning rush. She'd been working at the coffee shop for almost a year but she'd never been promoted, still working counter duty. Not that she really minded; the salary was enough to pay for her half of the rent so she was satisfied.

The first customer was a middle aged man who seemed to be in quite a hurry, the next a polite young woman in a heavy jacket. Clara easily fell into her routine, taking orders and making change as usual. After about an hour, the rush died down considerably. Most people were at work around that time, but the tables were lightly scattered with diners on their phones.

The few remaining people filed out soon after and the cafe was left empty and blissfully quiet. Clara turned her back to the counter, leaning against a pastry display case. She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the chance to rest. With the midmorning sun shining through the glass storefront, everything was calm and peaceful.

“Excuse me.”

A rough yet quiet Scottish brogue startled Clara from her relaxation. She spun around and felt her breath catch in her chest as her gaze fell upon the man standing before her. He was tall and spindly with sharp features and icy blue eyes, a head full of short, untidy, silver curls falling in every direction. He wore a deep crimson cardigan over a black waistcoat and white shirt with matching pants and polished black dress shoes.

Everything about the man was appealing and alluring. Who was this mysterious Scot and what was he doing in a coffee shop of all places? He looked like he belonged at a posh dinner party with the Queen.

“Erm, hello,” she choked out, her face feeling hot.

The man raised a pointed grey eyebrow. “Hello?”

“Er, what I can I get you, sir?”

“I'd like a tall dark roast, if it's not too much trouble.” His voice was level, his words crisp.

“Name?”

“The Doctor.”

It was then her turn to quirk an eyebrow. “I said name, not rank.”

“The Doctor,” he repeated simply.

“Your name is the Doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then, the Doctor,” she taunted, writing his name on a cup.

“Just call me Doctor,” he amended.

“I thought it was _the_ Doctor.”

“My name is the Doctor, but you use Doctor when addressing me personally.”

For a moment, Clara was afraid she was pushing too far, but she then noticed the faintest whisper of a smirk playing about the man's lips and she smiled back, eyes dancing. He paid quietly and she delivered his order to her coworker, watching him as he sat down at a table by the window. He withdrew a sleek black laptop from his cardigan and her brows shot upward. She made a mental note that his jacket must be bigger on the inside.

His coffee was then done and she called his name, placing the steaming cup on the counter. He stood and strolled back over, his every movement poised and graceful.

“Thank you,” he murmured, bowing his head appreciatively as he returned to his seat with the drink. Clara contemplated the strange Doctor, the way his steel blue eyes raked across his computer screen, his long, bony fingers dancing across the keyboard like a pianist composing a concerto. Every few minutes he'd pause working to sip his coffee, gazing out into space as if pondering the entire universe's existence.

Once his cup was empty, the Doctor stood, closing his laptop and tucking it back into his coat. He sauntered to the door, taking a step out before stopping to peer back at Clara. Caught staring, she quickly looked away, flushing red with embarrassment. The last thing she saw of the enigmatic man before he vanished into the vast London crowd was his lips, pursed and turned upward in an unreadable smile.

**~*~**

The next morning was exactly the same. The typical rush came and went and once the cafe was barren and vacant, cold air was gusting in as the Doctor stepped through the doors. Clara smiled at him, pleased he'd returned.

“What can I get you, Doctor?”

“Tall dark roast,” he paused to read her name tag, “Clara.”

Something tightened in her chest at the way he said her name. The hard enunciation of the _c_ followed by the sharp vowel sound and deliciously rolled _r_ , it made her want to hear it again and again. She quickly relayed the order to the woman running the espresso machine so she had a chance to speak before he walked away.

“So,” she began, almost laughing at the way his seemingly surprised eyes flickered up to hers, “are you from around here?”

“I have a flat about a mile away. Fifteen minute walk.”

“Interesting. I've never seen you in here before.”

“That's because I've never been before,” he replied plainly.

“Really?” Clara leaned on the counter, enjoying being close to him. “What made you decide to come in yesterday?”

“What's life without whimsy?”

She laughed at that and his face appeared to light up, a crooked half-grin spreading across his features. Just then, her coworker appeared with his coffee and she was startled by how disappointed she felt at their conversation being cut short.

The Doctor took the cup graciously, starting to turn around but stopping halfway and glancing back at Clara. “See you tomorrow, Clara,” he bade, gazing up at her beneath his sharp brows.

For a moment she was nonplussed, unable to believe that the mysterious, well-dressed stranger was taking an interest in her. Feeling his expectant stare burning into her, she hurriedly responded. “Er, see you, Doctor.” With that, he was gone, strolling back out the doors as quickly as he'd come.

**~*~**

“Okay, talk to me.”

Clara shot a puzzled glance at her flatmate. “What about?”

“You've been feelin' sorry for yourself all month and now all of the sudden you're all butterflies and rainbows,” the blonde explained, taking a seat next to Clara on the sofa.

“And?”

“Who is he?”

Clara's eyes went wide. Rose Tyler could read her like a book. She knew there was no sense pretending. “There's this guy who's been coming to the coffee shop recently. He's been in every morning for a week now.”

“Tell me about him.”

Clara was unsure what to say. She was afraid Rose would think she was barmy for fancying someone so much older than herself. He could believably be her father, maybe even her grandfather. “Promise you won't laugh?”

Rose tilted her head to the side in confusion. “Why, what's wrong with 'im?”

“Well, he's... older,” she managed.

“How much older?”

“I don't know exactly. Old enough to be grey,” she joked, hoping to ease the tension in her chest.

“What else? What's he like?”

“Well, he calls himself the Doctor. Won't tell me what he's a doctor _of_ , mind you. Says he's a chemistry professor at some prestigious university. He's all posh and distant. If you told me he was part of the royal family I'd believe you. Well, if he wasn't Scottish.”

“Posh, distant, _and_ Scottish?” Rose quipped with a playful laugh. “Sounds like the perfect man.”

“No, but he's so much more than that,” Clara began, gazing off into nothing as she recalled his withdrawn demeanor. “He's elegant but somewhat awkward, like he doesn't get out much. Most days he stays and works on his laptop, all broody and serious but I can _tell_ there's more to him than that. It's like he's afraid to show any emotions. If I could just get past this diffidence of his he'd be an entirely different person.”

By the time she finished speaking, Rose was eying Clara amusedly with a pursed-lipped smirk. “What?” she asked, almost affronted.

“Listen to you! You're so far gone on this bloke you sound like a poet just _talking_ about him. Go get him!”

“I can't,” the brunette protested weakly. “I don't even know what I'd say. 'Oh, hello there, sir. You're old enough to be my father, and might already have children older than me, but let's go out for dinner!' He probably only talks to me to be polite.”

“Hold on. 'ave you ever seen him in there before now?”

“No, he said Monday was the first time he'd ever been in.”

“And you said he's come in every day since then?”

“Without fail.”

“God, you're daft!” Rose laughed, grinning and shaking her head. Clara blankly stared at her, bemused.

“Why am I daft?”

“He's going in there for you! Why else would this sophisticated old Scot come back to some mediocre coffee shop every day for a week?”

“Good coffee?” Clara offered.

Rose rolled her eyes. “You can get better coffee for half the price at the Tesco's down the street.” She stood, taking a few steps toward her bedroom. “Think about it, Clara. You can hide away all nervous and miserable, or you can go get yourself a date for Valentine's Day. It's your choice.”

Suddenly alone in the lounge, Clara sighed and rested her head in her hands.

**~*~**

After an uneventful weekend, Clara returned to work on Monday excited yet terrified. As usual, she wrote names on cups, served customers coffee and pastries, and made idle conversation with those who extended it. She was practically shaking with anticipation, unsure how she'd even go about chatting up someone like the Doctor.

Like clockwork, at ten in the morning the Scottish man was striding in the cafe, graceful yet gangling at the same time. Clara inhaled sharply upon seeing him. He looked different than before. His hair had been trimmed short and even, making his head look rounder and his face younger. He was clad in a sharp black suit and as he swaggered up to the counter, he tucked his hands in his pockets, flashing the silky red lining of his top.

“Doctor,” she greeted, a bit breathless.

“Clara,” he replied, leaning back on the balls of his feet. “I didn't see you here over the weekend.'

“I have weekends off,” she replied, her heart fluttering at the thought of him being disappointed that she wasn't there.

“I missed you.”

This time Clara was thoroughly shocked. He seemed to be much more forward than last she'd seen him, yet there was still mystery behind the implications of his words. Not knowing how to respond, she changed the subject. “Let me guess, tall dark roast?”

“I believe I'm beginning to get predictable.”

She smiled and he reciprocated with one of his trademark half-grins. Leaning closer as he rummaged through his wallet, Clara caught the scent of men's cologne and she raised an eyebrow. Was the Doctor trying to impress her?

She took his notes and handed him his change, her heart skipping a beat as his angular fingers brushed hers. Seeing as her coworker was on break and there were no other customers in the shop, Clara decided to prepare the coffee herself. Loitering by the espresso machine, she extended a shaky pen to the cup in her hand and quickly jotted down her mobile number instead of the Doctor's name.

Filling the cup, she carefully stepped back to the counter, placing the man's drink down before him. “Enjoy,” she said, praying that she didn't sound as anxious as she was.

“Oh, I will.” Was that... _flirting?_ The Doctor settled into a chair, beginning to work on his laptop as usual. Clara watched fearfully, waiting for him to notice the number scrawled across the cardboard. Minutes passed second by second, but the man didn't see what she had written. He typed on his laptop, working studiously, and promptly finished his coffee without so much as a glance at the writing.

Her heart sank as he stood up and closed his laptop. She turned away, too humiliated to watch the Doctor leave. His cup would be thrown away without a second thought. She knew she should have been straightforward rather than taking the timid route.

“Clara.”

She whirled around at the sound of his thick accent speaking her name. He was standing at the counter again, ankles crossed. He extended an arm, gingerly placing his coffee cup back down in front of her. She furrowed her brow in confusion. Why was he leaving it instead of throwing it away? Was he trying to tell her that he had seen the number or was he rejecting her? She shot a puzzled glance at the Doctor. He merely nodded down at the cup.

She absentmindedly lifted it in her fingers, spinning it around and rereading what she'd written. There was her scribbled mobile number followed by a second number... wait. She hadn't written that. Her eyes grew wide, lips parting in shock. Inscribed on the cardboard with thick blue pen next to Clara's writing was an unfamiliar phone number. Beneath that was the Doctor's signature enclosed in a delicately drawn heart.

She gazed up at the Doctor and Clara's heart felt as if it had stopped in her chest. He was smiling a real smile with all his teeth for the first time since they'd met. His features were alight and his sapphire blue eyes flickered with a thousand things she couldn't name. Before she had time to respond, he was gone from the cafe.

Eying the mobile number, Clara grinned widely. Looks like she wasn't spending Valentine's Day alone this year after all.

 


End file.
